


Modern AU Drabbles

by MannixMind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, F/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MannixMind/pseuds/MannixMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A growing collection of random modern AU ideas that keep popping into my mind.  More tags to be added as time goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arya/Theon

It had started as a joke. 

She’d recognized him instantly in the club, even though the shadow of a beard on his face and the trim muscular chest perceptible through his tight tee-shirt gave him a distinctly different look than the gangly teenager she’d known. She’d given him a wide berth, not wanting him to spot her and make a fuss about her having clearly acquired a fake ID.  She was feeling alive – and she was dead set on enjoying her night. 

She’d started the night out with Ygritte, Jon’s fiery girlfriend, and a group of her friends (who Jon referred to as “the wildlings” when Ygritte was out of earshot).  They were all older than Arya, but none of them seemed to care about the age difference at all… not like Sansa’s friends who acted as if the 18 months that separated them from Arya made them part of a different generation.  Ygritte and her friends hadn’t given a damn what Arya wore either, which, more than anything, was what got her to abandon her trusty jeans, rocker tees, and well-worn boots, and ask Ygritte for a dress to borrow.  Which is how she’d ended up at the Wall, the North’s most outrageous dance club, dressed in a navy blue Herve Leger bandage dress with her hair curled and stilettos on her feet. 

She had felt sexy and anonymous, and there was something just electrifyingly _fun_ about that, that she opted to stay out with Val and two of Ygritte’s other friends when Jon’s girlfriend had needed to leave. She was about halfway through her fourth whiskey sour, leaning against the bar to take a momentary reprieve between songs, and when she heard a familiar voice coming from behind her.

“I see you finally took a break from dancing.”

She’d twirled on her heel to see Theon leaning against the bar with a crooked grin on his face.  She’d stood there, waiting for his familiar taunting to begin when something unexpected happened.

“I’m Theon, Theon Greyjoy.”

She’d stared at him incredulously. He’d just smiled at her, his green-grey eyes glowing with the promise of mischief.

“Are you serious?”

His smile had only broadened at that.

“Heard of me, have you?”

Was it really possible that he didn’t recognize her?  Sure it had been five years since she’d seen him – she’d left Winterfell to go to boarding school in Braavos in the Eighth grade, and he, Robb and John had left for university the next year.  

“Do you not remember me, Theon?”

“I’d find it hard to forget a face like yours.”

Her eyebrows had shot up at that.

This coming from the guy who called me Arya Horseface for a god seven years of my childhood?

Theon had squinted at her, as if her were searching her face for some sign of recognition. 

“Were you one of Sansa’s friends?  Do I know you from Winterfell?”

At that, she’d just smiled.

“Something like that.”

And so they’d talked, and she eventually allowed him to lead her out onto the dancefloor.  As obnoxious as he was when they’d been children, she found that she was actually having fun with him, enjoying his quick wit and ridiculous dance moves.  Five years in Braavos had left her with a serious appreciation for men with _personality_ – half the men in Braavos blended together so much that they seemed faceless to her. Theon, for all his flaws, was unapologetically, unmistakably, Theon.

Which is how she’d ended up here.

In his bed.

Without her clothes.

She cracked an eyelid groaning inwardly as the light of day assaulted her.  She glanced to her left, where Theon dozed, his bare chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of deep sleep.

_Well, fuck._

Parts of last night were still a haze, but the snippets that she did get were running through her mind.  Flashes of him – kissing her, laughing softly as he took off her dress, pulling her down on the bed beside him and…

_Oh Gods.  But it’s THEON._

She might never forgive whiskey for this.  At least she could take some comfort in the fact that he didn’t know who she was. Now if she could just sneak out before he wakes up.

_Phone. Where’s your phone…_

 She eased herself out of bed as gently as she could careful not to wake the man at her side, she was almost fully out of bed when the sound of pounding on a nearby door froze her where she was.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

She jerked around, staring at Theon to ensure that he still slept.  He lay there, utterly unfazed by the noise. 

“Robb! Open up!”

_Oh Seven Hells._ She’d forgotten that Robb had moved in with Theon after Jon and Ygritte had decided to get an apartment together.  And if she wasn’t very much mistaken, the muffled voice she heard through two doors belonged was Jon’s.

_Damn._

“Mmm? ‘m coming hold on.”  Robb’s voice sounded as exhausted as she felt.  Arya heard the door creek open.  The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the door. 

“Were you asleep?”

“Fucking Theon had me up all night,” Robb muttered, sounding groggy.

“I thought you said he was getting better?” Ygritte’s amused voice quipped.

“He was, until last night.  I could hear him and the girl he brought home for hours.”

“I hate to say I told you so…” Jon’s bemused voice began…

“Do you? It doesn’t seem like you hate it…”

“…But I told you so.”

“What do you want Jon? If it can wait I’d like to go back to bed for at least an hour.”

“Arya never came home last night.”

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck._

She should have called Jon or at least texted him. As silently as she could she began searching for her phone again.  Unfortunately, Theon’s room was far from tidy, and they’d both thrown their things around haphazardly when they got in last night.

_Phone!?! Where are you?_

“She what?!”

“She never got in last night.  I’ve called and I’ve called but she hasn’t picked up.”

“Has she texted?”

“Only once – around three am last night.  It just said ‘don’t worry – just getting it in. LOLZ – BBL’.”

She had to stop herself from banging her head against the wall in embarrassment.

“Arya texted you ‘BBL?’”

“I know! Do you think she’s been kidnapped?”

_Seven Hells.  Not kidnapped, just rendered ridiculous by booze and Kesha._

“When’s the last time you called her?”

“Around 7?  I stopped because I didn’t want to run out her battery if she was too hung over to wake up.”

 “Well its nearly 10 right now – why don’t you try her one more time, and if you don’t get through we’ll go out and look for her.”

“Alright.”

She sprang up again, less worried about Theon and dead set on finding her cell phone before things became any worse than they already were. 

_Phoneee… phone, phone, phone!_

She threw clothes around the room in her haste, just as she heard the first, incriminating, buzz.

_No!_

The unmistakable sounds of her ringtone rang out from the far corner of the room, next to the door. She lunged, swiping aside Theon’s discarded jeans and silencing her phone, but it was too late. An unnatural silence had overtaken the living room outside Theon’s door.

Then footsteps fast and almost radiating with fury stomped their way across the room, stopping just outside Theon’s door.

“Did you hear—“

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

“THEON! Open this door!” Jon’s voice was dead serious. 

_Oh shit.  Bra… bra where are you…_

Arya’s search turned frantic once more, as Theon began to stir.

“Theon I swear to the Gods if you don’t open this door—“

“Jon?”  Her bedfellow looked up but Arya could spare no energy on him. 

_BRA.  WHEREAREYOU._

As the door knob began to turn she gave up, and snatched the nearest tee-shirt off the ground, throwing it over her head before yanking the bedspread and sheets down from off the bed and wrapping them around her where she sat on the floor.

“Hey what are you—“

The door flew open and Arya found herself facing both her older brothers, their faces furious, and one seriously amused looking redhead.

“ARYA!” they thundered simultaneously, looking as if they were both about to pop a vessel.

“Wait… what?” Theon’s surprised exclamation came from behind her.  She wished then that she hadn’t left him quite so naked on the bed with nothing to cover himself.  She looked up at him, and then back at her brothers, realizing there was no way out of this one.

Next time – she’d stick with the faceless men.


	2. Jon/Ygritte

_Breathe In. Breathe Out._

He tried to keep his breathing measured as he rounded into the second mile of his morning run.  His Saturday morning workout had become comfortable and familiar over these last few weeks, but now, with the Police Academy fitness test only five days away, he was trying to push himself.  This morning he would run four miles in each direction; rather than two, and still complete the 50 pull-ups and 100 push-ups when he got to the playground.  It would be hard, but he was determined.

The sun was just starting to rise, bathing the playground in soft pink light when he arrived.  He was covered in sweat, having managed to keep his 6:30 a mile pace, and he threw off his tee-shirt hastily, sucking wind and pushing his dark curls out of his face as  he jumped up and grasped the pull-up bar.

_One. Two._

“Are you a narc?”

He almost let go of the pull-up bar in surprise. He turned his head to see a girl sitting at the top of the slide on the jungle gym behind him.  She had a mass of red curls, which she clearly hadn’t tried too hard to tame, and was wearing an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place as Cochella. She didn’t look much older than his nineteen years, and yet it was clear (from the smudged stamp on her hand and the PBR tallboy perched next to her) that she had been out at the bars all night. She seemed unabashed at this though, and was peering at him with what seemed to be pleasant curiosity, her head tilted to one side as if he were some rare exotic specimen.  He realized then that he hadn’t answered her, and he shook himself.

“No, I’m not a narc.”

“Hmmm… but I suppose that’s what a narc would say, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he shrugged, and faced forward again, resuming his pull-ups.

_Four. Five. Six._

“The way I see it…” she said, sideling over to the pull-up bar, beer in hand, and peering up at him, “is that there’s only four kinds of people our age who wake up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday to torture themselves on playground equipment: Olympians, soldiers, narcs, and serial killers.”

_Seven. Eight._

“You do have any Olympic aspirations do you?”

“No.”

_Nine. Ten._

“And your hair’s too long for you to be in the army…”

“Yeah I guess so.”

_Twelve. Thirteen._

“So I guess then the only question left is do you keep the dressed-up corpse of your mom in an armchair in your bedroom?”

“No?”

“Well then that leaves narc.”  She smiled up at him, pleased with her own analysis.  She was really quite stunning in her own way.  Jon felt a little lightheaded, looking at her, and was suddenly painfully aware that he was shirtless. He released the bar and dropped to the ground, inwardly cursing the blush that had begun to spread across his cheeks.

“I’m entering the police academy,” he said looking down as he grabbed him tee shirt off the ground. “But I’m not going to be a narc.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Disappointing, but predictable.  Personally, I’d prefer serial killer I think.”

He rolled his eyes at her incredulously.  He got flak from people all the time about going into the police force and usually just ignored it but for some reason it stung more, coming from her. 

“You’d rather I was a serial killer than a cop? How does that make any sense?”

“Now, now, don’t be so quick to judge serial killers.  Sure they’re a bit brutal, but at least they’ve got one thing going for them.”

“And what’s that?”

“They’re unpredictable.  You know who’s never unpredictable?”

He glared at her in annoyance but she just beamed at him and continued.

“Narcs.”

“Well thank you for making it perfectly clear what you think of my future profession.  Enjoy the rest of your… night? …morning? Whatever this is for you.  And get home safely.  I’m sure you’d hate it if something happened and a narc had to come save you.”

She scoffed, as if the notion of her being assisted by the police was an absolutely absurd prospect, and he turned to go. Some people were just that way, he guessed.

“Oh Narc? If you ever need a break from protecting and serving, feel free to come down to Mance Rayder’s.  It’s where I tend bar most nights.”

He stared at her momentarily, trying to decide if he’d heard her right.  After all that, was she hitting on him?

He was confused.

And interested.

And a bit annoyed at her attitude.

But mostly interested.

“Yeah… yeah I definitely will. Who should I ask for?”

She flashed him another dazzling grin.

“Ygritte.”

Ygritte.  The name fit her.  This time, she began to turn to leave.  Not sure what to say, but not quite ready to let her go without saying more he called out.

“Wait, aren’t you going to ask what my name is?”

She smiled again, her eyes dancing with amusement.

“Don’t need to.  Most likely it’s like Jon or something narc-y like that.”

And with that she turned and left, leaving Jon to begin the run home, thinking the whole that maybe he _could_ stand to have a little more unpredictability in his life afterall.


	3. Robb & Theon

“Come on Stark, in you get. That’s right you got this bro,” Theon said, half coaxing, half dragging, his best friend and tonight’s groom-to-be into the elevator of their Vegas hotel. 

Robb wasn’t resisting per se, he’d always been a good natured drunk, but he had reached the level of intoxication where he was essentially an oversized puppy about an hour ago, and had taken to running in the direction of any mildly interesting thing that caught his eye.  Which, in Vegas, was a lot of things.

“Greyjoy you got him?” Jory Cassel called out from the lobby where he was standing with the rest of the stragglers from Robb’s bachelor party.  Theon smirked and nodded, letting Jory (who’d always been one of the responsible ones in their group of Winterfell scoundrels) off the hook for the night.  Theon might be far from sober, but he’d been handling drunk Robb since they were both fifteen, he could manage to get the bachelor up to bed on his own. 

The night had been an absolute success if Theon could say so himself.  As one of Robb’s two best men he had personally made sure that no bottle was left un-popped, no stripper was left un-tipped, and no groomsman was left unsullied.  Robb had a habit for attracting friends who were entirely too honorable for Theon’s taste, so he had been particularly proud of this last achievement. 

_Gods even Jon Snow had gotten some…_

The elevator dinged at the eleventh floor, and Theon helped Robb out with one arm while digging in his back pocket for Robb’s room key with the other.

Jon Snow.  His co-best man, and competitor for Robb’s friendship since they were both little more than toddlers.  They got on better now than they had as teenagers (they could hardly get on worse) but Theon couldn’t help but still feel a pang of jealousy whenever Robb turned to Jon for something instead of him.  That would be the way of it for most of the wedding details – for making sure everyone ordered their tuxes on time, for holding the rings Robb would almost certainly lean on his cousin more than Theon.  As much as Theon hated the thought, Jon would probably end up delivering his best man speech at the wedding first.  But this – the bachelor party – _this_ was Theon’s.  

The door opened and Robb tumbled onto the floor with a drunken giggle. He rolled, into a sitting position and looked up at Theon with a lopsided grin, almost as if he thought he could pretend that he meant to fall.  Theon felt his heart constrict at the sight, and but pushed the thought to the back of his mind immediately. 

_Bachelor party, Theon.  Get it together._

“Thanksssssss.” Robb drawled. “Where’s Jon?”

Wasn’t _that_ the million dollar question. At first Theon had thought that Jon was going to be a real buzz kill, which was annoying as fuck because Theon had put a lot of energy into making sure everything was perfect.  Not that Jon gave a fuck, he’d scowled all the way through dinner and had almost seemed cold towards Robb.  Which, admittedly, was odd… Theon had seen the cousins fight exactly never, and he’d known then since they were both in pre-k. 

But then they’d gone to the strip club and the tequila had begun to pour, and well, Jon had let _loose_.  First, he’d bought two rounds of shots, toasting Robb in a way that, for him, was almost flashy.  Robb had looked bemused, as if he was slightly surprised but had pounded the shots when his cousin handed them off, while everyone else had cheered raucously at the free booze.  And then, Jon – Jon _Fucking_ Snow – had bought Robb a lap dance, and Theon had seriously wondered whether they were dealing with a real life case of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  Robb had met his cousin’s eyes at that and something had passed between them that Theon hadn’t quite understood, but the rest of the bachelor’s party had already begun whooping and cheering and Jon had just cocked an eyebrow at Robb in mock challenge. Not long after they’d left for stop number two on Theon’s list, and within twenty minutes of their arrival Jon had attracted the attentions of a devastatingly gorgeous red head in a black bikini.

It had helped, obviously, that he’d been wearing nothing but board shorts and a shy lopsided grin at the time.

But still, this was _Jon Snow_ they were talking about, and Theon had seen him whispering into the girl’s ear, intentionally letting his stubble scrape against the back of her neck while she arched into him as she danced to the house music reverberating through the bar.

It was game.  Jon Snow had spit game. 

And now, he was somewhere in Vegas with some red head, and they’d see him in the morning.      

“He went home with that red head, remember? The one from the pool?”

Robb’s smile fell instantly from his face, to be replaced by an odd look.  He looked, hurt, though for the life of him Theon couldn’t imagine why.

“He’s punishing me.”  The words came out as barely more than a whisper, but Robb’s voice was deadly serious.

“What?  Come on man, he’s just getting ass.  Gods knows he’s needed some he probably hasn’t gotten any since Ygritte.”

 _Another redhead_.  Theon’s still buzzed mind chimed in, taking note that Jon Snow clearly had a type. 

Robb shook his head though and glanced up at Theon.  Seven hells, his eyes were wet and shining.  He looked like he was going to cry.

“Hey bro, come on man you’re good,” Theon said, throwing himself down on the carpet next to Robb.  Melancholy drunks weren’t so unusual Theon knew, but in the decade he’d spent drinking in the oldest Stark’s company Theon hadn’t once seen him turn gloomy with booze. 

“He’ll be back tomorrow, man.  He probably didn’t know you’d have a problem with him cutting out a bit early.  It’s not really his MO.  If he knew you’d care, he’d have stuck around, no matter how fuckable that Red Head chick was.”

Whatever the right thing to say was, that hadn’t been it. Robb squeezed his eyes shut at Theon’s words as if just the hearing of them hurt him.

“He was trying to prove a point Theon.”

“Come on, Robb, let’s get you into bed,” Theon said, trying to pull his friend to his feet.

Robb didn’t budge, but instead just reopened his eyes to fix Theon with a pleading stare.  They were still swimming with unshed tears, and seemed to be glowing with a naked vulnerability that Theon wasn’t quite sure he was equipped to handle.

 “Theon,” he said drawing out his name in a beg, “you’re not hearing, you’re not listening to me.”

“I’m listening bro, but you’re not making any sense,” he said, plopping back down next to his friend having momentarily given up on dragging him onto the bed.  “You need to explain it in a way I can understa—“

His words were cut off as Robb leaned in and kissed him.  It wasn’t a great kiss – Robb was sloshed and tasted like cheap whiskey – but it was Robb and Theon would be lying if he said his heart didn’t do a backflip at the contact.

After a moment Robb drew away, his eyes wary and fixed on Theon intently despite his intoxication. 

“Do you understand now?”

Theon swallowed, and nodded thinking that he was starting to.

“How… how long have you known?”

“Nine years.”

It hit him like a physical blow.  He’d known since they were sixteen, since they’d been at Winterfell together, since before they went away to college, and he hadn’t said anything, even _knowing_ that he…

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you.  We could’ve helped each other.”

Coming up as bi had been anything but smooth for Theon.  His father had disowned him, and he’d ended up staying with the first dude he fell for afterwards long after it became clear it was an unhealthy relationship in large part because he needed to prove his old man wrong.  He’d had moments where he’d wondered about Robb, but he hadn’t let himself go down that road.  Too many guys he know had been burned hard when they read too deeply into signs their straight friends were giving off. 

“I couldn’t have anyone know.  Not with my family counting on me to take over the company as soon as I’m done with my MBA—“

“But you told Jon.”

He could hear the bitterness in his voice, but he didn’t care.  He could be just as trustworthy as Jon Fucking Snow, even if he did talk more.  Hell, he could hardly talk less than Snow, and it wasn’t fair for Robb to hold him to that standard.

Robb looked down at that, as if he couldn’t bear to meet Theon’s eyes. 

“We… we found out _with_ each other,” his voice was so low that if Theon had been any farther away he would’ve missed Robb’s words.  Robb looked and sounded like he was in confessional, with his head bowed meekly, awaiting judgement.  He supposed it wasn’t that far from the truth.

So Jon had won out afterall. He’d won years ago and Theon had just been too dense to see what was right in front of him.  He wanted to stew in his own unhappiness but he was too confused and too curious to slink away in self-pity just yet.  Plus it was clear that Robb needed him, and even though he was feeling awfully betrayed by the nights revelations.

“So Snow he’s…”

“ _He’s_ bi,” Robb said almost bitterly stressing the first word angrily, “so he has the choice.  As he made quite clear tonight.”

Gods.  What the fuck did that mean for Robb then?

“And Rosalyn? Does she, does she know?”

 _You know… your fiancé… who you’re marrying in a month…_ It probably should’ve been Theon’s first thought, but it wasn’t and he wasn’t going to apologize for it.

Robb brought his hand up and ran it through his hair distractedly.

“Sometimes I think she does, but no I haven’t, I haven’t actually told her though.  I think it’s why she doesn’t like Jon.  It’s also probably part of why she doesn’t like you, if I’m being honest.”

Theon nodded.  That was… well not great seemed like the understatement of a lifetime.

“So you think Jon was punishing you tonight… by buying you a lap dance and then playing tongue twister with some fire in front of you?”

Robb nodded slowly, his hands still in his hair, his eyes now fixed, unseeing, on the carpet in front of him.

“Do you love him?”

The words spilled out of Theon’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

“No!” Robb said quickly, jerking his head up.  “No. He’s just the only one who knows, so sometimes we—but it’s stupid, it’s nothing.  No he was just doing that tonight because he’s trying to prove his point, which is that I have no business marrying a woman.  But no, it’s not like that.”

 _Like fuck it’s not_.  Theon thought, but he understood why Robb needed to cling to the premise that it was.  It was one thing to be gay in today’s society – things were changing, people were staying single much longer than ever before, by the time Robb was actually expected to get married people might not really even care anymore.  But being gay for your cousin, now that was never going to be ok, never going to sit well with the board.  That was the kind of thing you had to take drastic measures to avoid.  Drastic measures like marrying a well-connected perfectly boring woman that you had no hopes of ever being attracted to.

“It’s whatever,” Robb said suddenly, jerking Theon out of his thoughts as he scrambled awkwardly to his feet.  “It’s fine, I’m just being stupid. Anyway, thanks for everything, tonight was awesome.”

It was a dismissal, and Theon knew Robb well enough to let it go.

“Yeah man, it was a good night.  Don’t worry about Snow, he’ll be back in the morning. He probably just passed out on her couch anyway, he’s never been great with tequila.”

Robb gave Theon a grateful smile and Theon’s heart gave another involuntary squeeze at the sight.

“Thanks bro.  And uh, if we could keep this between us. It’s not something I really want getting around. Even to Jon.”

“Don’t worry Stark.  I’ve got you. Get some sleep now, we’re hitting the craps tables in the morning and I want you sharp.”

And with one more small smile from Robb Theon turned to leave, thinking as he did that, after all these years, he and his co-Best Man had found something in common after all. They were both in love with the groom.

What a fucking mess. 


End file.
